


The Chinese Fireball

by crochetaway



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Animagus Accident, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:54:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27218962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crochetaway/pseuds/crochetaway
Summary: When Hermione Granger went missing from both the wizarding and Muggle worlds, it wasn’t hard to find her. If one knew where to look. The trouble was that nobody actually knew where to look. It took seven long years for anyone to stumble across her. And even then, the two wizards who did find her mistook her for a dragon. COMPLETE!
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Thorfinn Rowle/Charlie Weasley
Comments: 49
Kudos: 176





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N: Welcome to my new story! I'm so excited to share this little tale with you all! It is completely written and clocks in at 9 chapters. I'll be posting a chapter a week.**
> 
> **This was a plot bunny born of a conversation with my real-life BFF and beta for this story brownlark42! It's based on a beautiful drawing done by Charles Urbach, you can see the drawing on the collage I made for this story either on my Tumblr at crochetawayhpff or Facebook Shan Crochetaway. To see more of Charles Urbach's amazing work, find him on Facebook at @charlesurbachart.**
> 
> **Thorfinn as a berserker is inspired by Mary Royalle's A Thread Uncut one-shot. Go read it if you haven't, it's brilliant!**
> 
> **If you liked this (or hated it) let me know about it in a review!**
> 
> **Enjoy!**

* * *

_Sometime in 1999_

When Hermione Granger went missing from both the wizarding and Muggle worlds, it wasn't hard to find her. If one knew where to look. The trouble was that nobody actually _knew_ where to look. It took seven long years for anyone to stumble across her. And even then, the two wizards who did find her mistook her for a dragon.

It was an easy enough mistake to make. Because at the time, that's what she was.

Our tale starts with our heroine attempting to learn to become an Animagus on her own. It was a dangerous challenge, made more dangerous by the fact that she hadn't told anyone about it. Animagi were rare—really rare—with only a handful registered in Wizarding Britain at any given time. Add that to the fact that by the time she started this attempt, Hermione Granger found herself extremely isolated from all of her friends.

The war had erased the reverence Hermione once had for the pursuit of knowledge through formal institutions. She had forgone the additional year at Hogwarts, instead choosing to study on her own and take her NEWTs when the Ministry offered them in the winter of 1998. She achieved all eleven NEWTs and determined herself fully capable of anything the wizarding world could throw at her. Including learning to become an Animagus on her own.

Hermione promptly moved into her parents' empty house in the exurbs of London and shut herself away with every definitive text on Animagus she could get her hands on. She followed all of the directions, keeping a mandrake leaf in her mouth for a solid month, meditating on her form (she was as shocked as anyone that her form was a dragon), and waiting until a really nasty storm brewed over London before attempting the spell for the first time.

The first time, only her right leg transformed into a dragon's leg. She also formed a huge wing on her left shoulder blade that threatened to topple her over as the rain streamed down from above.

"Bugger," she muttered to herself and concentrated on the counterspell. Thankfully, she was able to transform back into her usual self. That time.

The summer of 1999 was either especially stormy, or someone near London was messing with the weather. There were a number of record-setting gales that blew through central England that year. But we know what happened, don't we? Hermione Granger, Brightest Witch of Her Age, was damned determined to become an Animagus.

So she practiced. And practice needed the electricity and the magic that was inherent in lightning. Hermione, as we've already established, was not a stupid witch. Along with her Animagus texts, she had quite a few on the brewing of, especially nasty weather. When she felt confident enough in her abilities, she cast her first weather-related spell.

A once in a century type storm formed almost directly above the Granger household. Hermione was ecstatic that this spell, at least, worked exactly as it should and rushed outside to practice her Animagus form. She failed, again, and came back inside soaked with rain

Our heroine wasn't discouraged though. She knew that Animagi were rare. She knew it was an uncommon skill, but she didn't believe that she couldn't do it. For as long as she was alive, people, Muggle and Wizarding alike, had told her that she could do whatever she set her mind to. And Hermione had set her mind on becoming an Animagus.

After each successive failure, Hermione meditated on what the problem could be. Was it possible that her fear of heights was holding her back? Whoever heard of a dragon who couldn't fly, after all? Whoever heard of a dragon Animagus in the first place? After discovering her form, Hermione had researched through the Ministry archives in one of the few times she broke her self-imposed exile. She wanted to see if there had ever been a dragon Animagus in Wizarding Britain and discovered none. Granted, Animagus was an ancient spell, and the wizarding archives only went back three hundred years or so, but still. Hermione was quite certain she may be one of a kind.

And wasn't there a little pride with that? Pride in her abilities as not only the Brightest Witch of Her Age but also the only known dragon Animagus. Even if she hadn't fully completed the transformation yet, she knew that she would. There wasn't a spell that Hermione Granger had ever failed to perform correctly. Nor a potion she couldn't brew. She was, as stated previously, the Brightest Witch of Her Age.

It wasn't until the end of the Summer of the Storms, as the _London Times_ had taken to calling it, that Hermione finally achieved that which she had been working on for months. She'd brewed up the largest storm she felt she safely could and stood beneath the falling rain, the wind whipping around her, waiting for the lightning to strike and the air to fill with magic. The rain drenched her clothes within moments, although our heroine didn't seem to notice as she tipped her head back and spread her arms, almost communing with the storm that raged above her.

"This time," she whispered, then shouted as lightning flashed and thunder boomed. When the storm had crescendoed to its highest point was when Hermione let loose the spell. Lightning split across the sky, striking the earth all around. Between one lightning strike and the next, had anyone in Hermione's neighborhood been looking out their window at the empty lot next to the Granger house, they would have seen what appeared to be a woman transform into a dragon.

Luckily for our heroine, nobody _was_ looking and her transformation was complete. Success! Standing in her place was a large, red dragon. A Chinese Fireball, to be precise. The dragon looked stunned for a long moment, before letting out a roar the same time thunder rattled most of the windows on the street. A small fireball slipped past the dragon's lips and hit a nearby tree, sending it up in flames.

The dragon was startled by the sudden flaming tree, even though she knew the neighbors would just assume a lightning strike. It wasn't the first tree to have been sacrificed to the Summer of Storms. Although, it would be the last.

The dragon stumbled back, away from the burning tree and directly into a fence behind another neighbors yard. The storm still raged, and the smell of rain and lightning were overwhelming. The thunder was too loud to let her think. Fighting panic and knowing she had to get away, she unfurled her massive wings and began beating them, hard. When she didn't lift off, she began running and beating her wings at the same time. Finally, just before stampeding into yet another neighbor's house, the dragon took flight.

She worked her wings hard, trying to gain altitude despite the wind and rain attempting to keep her down. The dragon took to the air and disappeared into the stormy clouds above.

None of the neighbors noticed. The flaming tree took good care of that and several responsible residents called emergency services.

The last storm of the Summer of Storms was the biggest one yet. It smashed through every record ever set, as if it was the final blow-out goodbye from the rampaging gods above. Our heroine, now a dragon, found herself flying high above the clouds, above the storm, above the London metropolitan area. She had no idea how to land, where to land, or how to transfigure herself back into Hermione Granger. Instead, she took off for the East. Surely, she would come across a safe place to land soon enough. Perhaps on the continent somewhere.

Almost ten hours later, the dragon was still flying, beating her wings fast. Her panic had subsided, and she found herself over a large mountain range that seemed to be deserted. Feeling a calm come over her, the dragon began her descent. She thought that once she reached the ground she would be able to Transfigure herself back into a human and get back home.

It was at that point that our heroine considered that perhaps she should have asked for help when starting her bid to become an Animagus. It's not like she didn't know any Animagi. In fact, one of her favorite professors and the current Headmistress of Hogwarts was a very famous Animagus. She surely would have helped Hermione achieve her dreams.

_Too late now_ , thought our heroine as she landed clumsily on one of the smaller peaks, clutching a large boulder as she tried to steady herself. If dragons could frown, this one would absolutely be frowning as she looked around. There was snow beneath her feet, which meant that it would probably be cold once she transformed back. The air was likely thin, and she had never been at this elevation as a human. Perhaps she should attempt to move lower?

The dragon began waddling down the side of the mountain. Now that she was on her feet again, all her human fears of heights and flying came rushing back. The last thing she wanted to do was take to the air again. She would just walk down to a lower elevation, beneath the snow line at the very least and then Transfigure herself back into being a human.

Unfortunately, that's now how our story ends. Poor Hermione could not Transfigure herself back into being a human, no matter how hard she tried. Worse yet, as a dragon, she couldn't do any magic. She couldn't perform any of those handy little weather spells she had become so good at. The ones that helped with the transformation in the first place.

Our heroine was stuck.

* * *

All was not lost, however. Below the snow line, and within the dense conifer forests, our dragon found a very convenient cave. It was large, large enough to fit her in it and still have room left over. Shelter figured out, our heroine decided to try and explore the world around her. Perhaps if she found out where exactly she was, she could find some help.

Flying was still out of the question. Our dragon even attempted it once, but at the last moment, skidded to a stop when her wings refused to budge. She didn't want to fall off the cliff. Instead, slowly, carefully, she picked her way down the side of the mountain and into the valley below.

The valley contained a small village and the dragon knew she needed to stay away from that, so she circled as far away as she could until she came across a place with something that smelled delicious. The smell was coming from a building that appeared different from the scattering of rustic cabins and shops in the village. It was a larger, rambling building made from a mix of stonework and wood, with a large sweeping porch entrance and over a dozen stove pipes popping up through the roof. It was unfortunate for our dear heroine that the longer she stayed in her Animagus form, the harder it was to think like a human. She ambled her large body toward the aroma of cooking food until the first screams started.

In her panic, she screamed too, which caused a burst of flame to come from her mouth and engulf the entire porch. Scrambling to get away, the dragon rushed back up the hillside, not caring about leaving a trail and knocking down any tree in her path. The villagers could see the dragon as she moved through the trees. They spoke a language she didn't recognize and she was pretty sure they were Muggles. Which meant that whichever country she was currently in would be sending its Ministry out. Perhaps that would be alright, but the dragon was terrified as she retreated back up the hillside to her cave.

A day later our dragon was dehydrated and hungry, so she went in search of something to eat. She found the forest surrounding her teeming with wildlife and soon had crunched her way through a brace of rabbits and two mountain goats. She also found a small river with cold, freshwater, and she took note to check back later to see if there were fish. Satisfied, she decided to head back down the mountain to inspect the damage from yesterday. With any luck, the wizards from the local Ministry would have been and gone already.

Neither dragon nor the human trapped inside could have told anyone precisely why she was reluctant to be found by the local Ministry. Perhaps it was her hardened distrust of the British Ministry causing her to distrust all Ministries.

The building was still standing, although there was a large charred portion that the dragon felt some shame over. There was not a human soul in sight. The dragon remembered a delicious smell coming from the building and decided to do a little investigating. What she found was some sort of cooking school. In fact, the dragon had stumbled across _Scoala Culinara Balan_ , the best culinary school in the Balkans. All the dragon cared about was the reading material she had discovered. The books called to her like gold and riches called to other dragons, and she grabbed as many as could fit in her mouth before making her way back up to her cave.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Thanks again to brownlark42 for beta'ing this story! I forgot to mention, but I really wrote this story for her, so I was happy when she said she would also beta it for me.**
> 
> **If you liked this (or hated it) let me know about it in a review!**
> 
> **Thanks to everyone who has left a review! It means so much to me. And thank you for reading!**
> 
> **Enjoy!**

_August 2006_

Thorfinn Rowle was exceedingly tired of running. He had been on the run from his home country's Ministry for almost three years. It hadn't been long after he finished Hogwarts that he had been strong-armed into joining the Death Eaters and from there, well… it all went downhill.

This time, at least, he wasn't on the run from his time as a Death Eater. He'd served his three-year sentence, lighter because he had proof of being strong-armed. But nobody wanted to hire an ex-Death Eater or an ex-convict, and especially not someone who was both. Mostly jobless, except for the odds or ends he could pick up here or there, he found himself spending his days in the pubs. A bad combination when one considered just what he was. A berserker. Rare, but due to his Viking lineage, berserkers had cropped up in the Rowle line a time or two in the past millennia.

It wasn't that he couldn't control himself. He absolutely could. He had more self-control than most men twice his age. The problem happened when he _lost_ control. When someone or something made him so angry he could no longer hold back. It wasn't often, but when it was, it could get deadly. Luckily, he hadn't killed anyone since his days as a Death Eater and had murdered poor Gibbon at Hogwarts. He still felt bad about it, even though Gibbon was one of the more depraved Death Eaters. Rowle hadn't been aiming at him.

Honestly, when he got into a berserker rage, he wasn't aiming at anyone or anything. It was more like a trance and once he was in it, it was very, _very_ , difficult for him to get out of it. Almost impossible really, until it had run its course and by then... to say there was lots of damage was an understatement.

That's exactly what happened at the pub one night. He'd been minding his own business, but some wizard with something to prove chose the largest wizard in the bar, Thorfinn, and decided to pick a fight.

Thorfinn had held him off for a good hour and a half before his control snapped. He could have held it together if the other wizard hadn't actually tried to punch him. It was ridiculous. Thorfinn was almost a foot taller than the man. One punch and he'd been knocked out. The problem was that by then his berserker rage had taken over. Most of the other patrons got out of the way before Thorfinn could do them much damage. The bulk of the damage was done to the pub itself. He had completely destroyed everything before the rage receded.

Once he had come back to himself and stood amongst the wreckage, he knew he was going to be in trouble. Big trouble, with possibly a longer sentence than his Death Eater one had been. One stint in Azkaban was enough for him. So he ran.

That was three years ago and he was still running. He would get to a place, settle in for a few months, and then the Aurors would be on his tail again. He changed his appearance frequently - trying new hair colors, cropping or shaving his beard. He was exhausted, but now he was in too deep. Turning himself in now wouldn't do him any favors. He'd been on the run for too long.

Had there been anyone for Thorfinn to go home to, he might have sucked it up and taken the punishment the Ministry wanted to hand him. But the last of his family had died in the war. He was alone now. His only friends were the wizards that poured him beer at the pubs. And they were the ones that had gotten together and tossed him into the alley behind the place he destroyed. His life was shit.

At least running gave him something to do, something to focus on. He knew there was no life left for him back in Britain. In fact, running had become so routine, that he now looked for ways to spice it up. Not by drawing attention to himself, but by challenging himself.

Which is how he found himself climbing a mountain in the Romanian wilderness. There was a small Muggle settlement nearby that he had planned to settle in, but first, he wanted to climb this mountain. It was the closest peak to the village that looked at least somewhat scalable.

He was about halfway up when he discovered the cave. It had all the marks of being occupied by a dragon, and one that had no skill or interest in being discreet. There were some dried scales stuck on the wall of the mountain near the entrance of the cave, as well as what were clearly claw marks and dragon-sized footprints. The Romanian reserve wasn't too far away, fifty miles or so. It wouldn't be unheard of to have wild dragons living up here, but it seemed awfully close to the village for a dragon to want to settle.

Regardless, the dragon didn't seem to be home and Thorfinn was excited. A dragon hoard was a rare find. He was already spending the riches in his head as he crept into the cave. It was dark, and Thorfinn didn't want to risk using his wand and possibly alerting the dragon via the light or the magic. He stood, closing his eyes and waiting long moments for them to adjust to the dimness of the cave. When he opened them, he could just make out piles and piles of the hoard.

He was gleefully thinking about how much he would be able to carry down and how quickly he could gather it when he tripped over a smaller pile. It didn't clink and clatter as he expected it to. Instead, it thumped.

"What the…" he trailed off as he caught his balance then bent down to see what exactly he had tripped over.

He came up holding a book. He bent down again, feeling all around his feet, barely able to see the shapes in the dark. Books. They were all books.

" _Lumos_ ," he muttered as he whipped out his wand. He stood their slack-jawed for a moment, unable to take in what he was seeing.

The cave was filled to the brim with books. They were books of all shapes and sizes, themes and colors. Scrolls, tomes, notebooks. Some were stacked neatly along the wall of the cave, while others were in messy piles, as if someone had started to organize them, but got frustrated and gave up. And they were everywhere, tucked into every nook and cranny, covering most of the cave floor. Now that he had seen them, he could smell them. It felt nostalgic, standing amongst all these books. He inhaled deeply and the Hogwarts library flashed before his eyes. He hadn't spent much time there, but the scent was distinct.

What kind of dragon hoarded books? It didn't make any sense. He'd heard that certain dragons preferred certain types of hoards, gold versus jewels, and the like. But books?

He was standing there dumbfounded when he heard shuffling from behind him.

"Shite," he muttered under his breath and quickly put the light of his wand out, trying to find a place to hide, but the books were packed in so closely together, that even attempting to hide amongst them would likely create the wordiest avalanche the world had ever seen.

He was still looking for a place to hide when the dragon's head appeared at the entrance of the cave. It was a gorgeous red Chinese Fireball. He hadn't taken Care of Magical Creatures, but he did like dragons, always had. He could only stare as it looked at him for a long moment, its yellow eyes gazing at him, unblinking. Then it shuffled forward a little further, just to get its body completely inside the cave opening. Thorfinn was pretty sure this was going to be the end of him. At any moment the dragon was going to open its mouth and either grill him alive or scoop him up and swallow him whole. He resisted the urge to flinch or flee as it shuffled even closer.

Curiously, the dragon hadn't roared, hadn't shown any defensive maneuvers. It almost seemed like it was as curious about Thorfinn as he had been about its hoard. It stretched toward him, its wings shifting along its huge back. Then it shoved its face as close to Thorfinn as it could get without touching him and it inhaled. The dragon's eyelids fluttered as it breathed in and Thorfinn got the distinct impression that not only did the dragon like how he smelled, that the dragon was in fact a girl.

She pulled back and then let loose a small fireball, up and over the hoard of books. Thorfinn whipped around to see that there was a large shelf covered in wood that was now burning merrily. It was a clever trick, and one he wouldn't have expected of a dragon.

"Aren't you a clever girl." He smiled at the dragon and held his hand out to her. She lowered her spiked-head once more and gave it a sniff, then nuzzled against it like a cat or dog would.

"Like that, do you, pretty girl?" His hand was now giving her cheeks a good scratch and her back leg thumped in time to the scratches.

"Mind if I stay for a while?" The cave was warm and dry and the dragon would definitely ask fewer questions than any of the locals. She looked at him, her yellow eyes regarding him for a moment before she seemed to nod. Thorfinn narrowed his eyes at her. Dragons were intelligent, but knowing a human gesture? That was eerie.

"Well, what should we call you? I'm Thorfinn, so I'm partial to Norse names. You're a Chinese Fireball, but likely haven't ever been to your homeland before, have you?" The dragon shook her head. It was disorienting to know that the dragon could understand him on some level.

"How about Freya? She's the goddess of gold, you know. Not that you have gold, but the Norse gods weren't really around by the time we had libraries." He chuckled to himself and Freya cocked her head to the side. She seemed alternately so human-like one moment and then like a big puppy or kitten the next. It was strange, but he found he kind of liked her.

"It's getting late. I really do hope it's okay that I stay and that you don't eat me in the middle of the night." His joke fell flat when Freya just cocked her head again. She moved further into the cave and curled up on a low pile of books. The fire above dimmed slightly. Another strange thing. Thorfinn couldn't recall dragons having magic. Not magic that could dim lights anyway.

With the sun dipping low in the sky outside, Thorfinn decided it was time to set up camp. He had some leftovers in his knapsack and began setting up near the opening of the cave. He didn't think that Freya would be all that appreciative if he got any of her books dirty.

After he'd eaten and cleaned himself up, he meant to bed down near the cave opening, but Freya's tail whipped out and curled around him, slowly drawing him closer to her.

He could have stopped it, but he was curious to see where this was going. When she bent her head down to nose some of the books near her belly out of the way, clearing a spot on the cave floor, her intentions became clear.

"You want me to bed down here?" He pointed to the spot she had created and she nodded. He watched her for a long moment. It was possible she was playing the long game and just wanted to toy with him or have an easy meal. But she didn't seem like she was playing games, and dragons didn't really eat humans. Not unless they had no other choice or were defending their nest. But she had the chance to defend against him and she hadn't taken it.

Thorfinn didn't consider himself a brave man, but it felt like the height of bravery when he carried his pack to the space she had made for him. He closed his eyes for a long moment before preparing his bed and laying down. Her tail curled around him and he tensed, but when she didn't move again, he relaxed. There was no need to worry about the chill from the night coming into the cave, Freya's natural body heat kept him warm through the long night. He had a bit of trouble actually getting to sleep, terrified at any moment that the dragon would come to her senses, but finally, he dropped off.

When he woke up the following morning, he felt refreshed for the first time in a long time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Many thanks to brownlark42 for beta'ing this story!**
> 
> **If you liked this (or hated it) let me know about it in a review!**
> 
> **Thanks to everyone who has left a review! It means so much to me. And thank you for reading!**
> 
> **Enjoy!**

_September 2006_

"Hey, Charlie! Got an assignment for you," Charlie Weasley's boss, Miles Ironwood, called him over. Charlie Weasley was finished for the day at the reserve and had been intending on having a hot shower and a cold drink. Not necessarily in that order. It had been a rough day, one in which he'd almost been injured very badly. Luckily he was able to dodge out of the way at the last moment, only getting singed a bit on one side.

"Yeah, boss?" he asked and rubbed the back of his neck. He was almost dead on his feet, but he was a solid worker and known for not turning down assignments.

"We've heard the complaint a few times," Miles began, handing Charlie a small stack of parchment, "but it wasn't until the Romanian Ministry contacted us that I figured it was time to take it seriously."

"What complaint is that?" Charlie looked through the parchment, quickly reading the Romanian words without issue and furrowing his brow. "A cooking school?"

"Yeah, that was my thought too," his boss said. "No dragon is hoarding books from a cooking school, it's laughable. But apparently, a few years ago there was a credible sighting in the area. Even destroyed part of the school. The Ministry covered it up, but didn't contact us as they assumed the dragon had moved on."

"Wait, that was back in 1999? There's been a dragon hanging around there for seven years?" Charlie looked back through the correspondence tallying up the dates.

Miles shrugged. "That's just it, we don't know for sure. After that first time, the only sightings have been by Muggles at night. So the Ministry has called them hoaxes. But they got this new department head who has decided that years of reports is enough to look into."

"Wait, are they asking if any of our dragons have a hoard of books?" he waved the most recent letter.

Miles chuckled. "Yeah, they are. Funny, isn't it? Damned bureaucrats wouldn't know the front from the arse end of a dragon. As if a dragon hoards anything that isn't shiny."

"And the Ministry knows our dragons don't have hoards, right?" Charlie asked, peering up at his boss. What a mess that would be, a dragon sanctuary, each one of them with a hoard. No, they kept their dragons busy, well-fed, and happy enough that they didn't feel the need to collect anything. Hoards were exclusively for wild dragons, and there weren't that many wild dragons left.

"It was really this one that caught my eye," Miles said, digging through his desk for one last piece of parchment. Charlie took it and read it over.

"A university library? Are they sure it's a dragon?" he asked, thoroughly confused.

"The scorch marks on the side of the building are in a distinct pattern that only dragons make. The fire burned hot and hard enough to melt the stone entirely. Normal fires aren't that hot, but of course you know that." Charlie nodded along.

"Alright, I'll look into it. Where exactly is all of this happening?"

* * *

The first thing he did the following morning was Apparate to _Scoala Culinara Balan_ and the village where it all began. Peering at the small valley ringed by mountains, Charlie nodded. It was remote enough that he could see a dragon settling nearby. The mountains in this part of Romania were riddled with caves, the perfect spot for a dragon. It would take him ages to hike the entire area to find what he was looking for, but Charlie was a patient man.

He wandered through the town first, looking for signs that a dragon had been nearby. He didn't find any until he circled the backside of the cooking school. There, clear as day, was a dragon footprint behind the treeline. Charlie had to clear away leaves and other forest debris to get a good look at the old footprint. It was half on stone, half on the dirt, so it was hard to tell what kind of dragon it belonged to.

It at least gave him a starting point for his hunt. He looked through the village once more, trying to determine if there were any other signs, but he didn't find any. Not even at the small satellite university on the far side of the village, which according to their correspondence was most recently hit by the dragon who hoarded books. The idea still made him chuckle every time. He didn't think that the dragon was actually hoarding books, but perhaps it was using them as fuel of some kind? Dragons were smart. He knew that from his decades of working with them.

It was mid-afternoon before he was ready to actually begin looking in the mountains. The footprint could be a red-herring, but it was the only lead he had. Charlie picked a path through the undergrowth and started heading up. Some wizards chose to ride brooms for aerial surveys, but he found ground work to be safer when dealing with—literally flighty—wild dragons. Plus, he was hoping to find the cave first. He had developed his own methodology for searching mountain forests, involving defined areas that were bounded by trails and rivers. He covered miles, but ended the day having found nothing. He Apparated back to the village and the room he had booked there. Finding the footprint had made him hopeful, but a day of fruitless searching disappointed him.

He didn't mind the assignment, but he really would prefer to be working with dragons instead of just searching for one that may or may not be here.

* * *

Three months passed and Charlie was ready to tear his hair out. It had never taken him this long to track down a dragon. The most difficult assignment he'd ever been on was when a dragon poacher had hatched three eggs, each a different species, but lost control of the dragons as juveniles. They had escaped into the Mongolian wilderness, fleeing in opposite directions, and Charlie had found them all within six weeks. He was the best at what he did.

In the months he had been in the village, the dragon had hit the university twice and the cooking school once more. The villagers were starting to talk about cancelling the winter fair out of fear that the bandit would expand its interest beyond books. Charlie had not seen hide or hair of the damned thing, nor had he found another track. He was starting to think it might be years old at this point, but he knew the dragon was nearby. He just had to find it.

Each day he went out, starting where he had left off and following trails, climbing cliff faces, scaling up and down the mountains that circled the village. He searched areas he had searched before. He occasionally found damage in the forest—torn up trees or overturned rocks—but nothing with the characteristic dragon char, scales, or footprints. He never found a trace of the damned dragon itself. Maybe the dragon didn't live nearby? Maybe it was in a completely different mountain range and just flying in for a literary vacation?

The thought had occurred to him more than once, but that's not really how dragons worked. They generally stuck to an area they felt safe in. This dragon had been in the area for at least seven years, and Charlie was guessing that it felt very safe, very comfortable here. So why couldn't he find it?

He tried not to let his frustration bleed through as he was searching, but sometimes it boiled up and needed release. It didn't help that as far as he was aware, there weren't any other wizards in the village. Charlie didn't have a problem with Muggles, but sometimes just talking over a problem would help him solve it and he had nobody to help. He had made it back to the reserve last month to talk things over with Miles again, but with the attacks still happening, there was no reason to call off the search.

On a whim, he decided to go back to that original footprint. There was a deep December chill in the air and there was snow on the ground. The snow was patchy in the village but could easily be up to a meter or more upslope. It was probably going to take snowshoes or cross country skis, but Charlie was starting to feel a little desperate. He'd never failed an assignment like this before and was unwilling to fail now. He looked straight up from where the footprint was, squinting against the glittering light that reflected off the snow. When the sun went behind a cloud, he was sure he saw something in the mountain above him. There wasn't a trail that led in that direction, and he might have to break out the climbing gear, ice picks, and crampons. But he had a hunch and he was going to follow it.

It took all of the morning and most of the afternoon, but finally he reached the anomaly in the mountainside. He was sweaty and getting chilled, but breathed a sigh of satisfaction. He was right. It was the opening of a cave, with clear signs of a dragon living in it. The snow had been cleared away at the entrance, as if it had been melted, and shedded scales were all over the place. Unstrapping his snowshoes, he picked up a scale and peered at it in the sunlight. A Chinese Fireball. That was interesting. If it was wild, it must have traveled a very long way. More likely it was domesticated at some point and either escaped or was let go once it became too big.

He looked for other signs before entering the cave itself. He needed to know what he was walking into. It was unlikely that the dragon was injured, but if there was some old injury it was nursing, it would be very aggressive.

Examining the footprints closely, he thought that there might be a chance that the dragon was injured in some way. He wouldn't know for sure, without observing it, but judging from the prints he was seeing, there was an awkwardness to its gait. He listened to see if he could hear the dragon breathing inside the cave, but the wind was whistling around the mountain and Charlie couldn't hear anything else.

He took one more pass around the outside of the cave and found nothing he hadn't already examined. It was time to go inside to see what exactly he was dealing with. He drew his wand and hoped it wasn't an angry, injured dragon spoiling for a fight.

Once he was in the cave and his eyes had adjusted to the light, his jaw dropped. Then he laughed. Great, big, full belly laughs bubbled up out of him as he lit his wand to get a good look at what he was seeing.

Apparently, dragons did hoard books. At least, this one did. The cave was almost full to bursting with books. They were piled and stacked on every bit of space. It did seem they were far enough back to not get ruined by rain or snow, which was smart, even for a dragon. Why books? It still didn't make any sense to Charlie.

He still couldn't help but let loose a chuckle as he made his way further into the cave. The dragon wasn't in. Or if it was, it was buried under the books, because Charlie couldn't see any evidence of the distinctive red hide.

He heard her before he saw her. The distinctive sound of dragon hide sliding across stone alerted him to her presence and he whirled around to see an absolutely gorgeous female Chinese Fireball shuffling into the entrance of the cave.

She stopped short when she spotted Charlie.

"Hey, girl," Charlie said in his quiet, taming-dragons-voice. "I'm not here to hurt you," he assured her.

She hissed at him; a warning. No fire left her mouth, but he could see it at the back of her throat, gathered there, waiting.

He held his hands up and slipped toward the side of the cave. A person invading a dragon hoard didn't often make it out alive, but this wasn't Charlie's first time dealing with a wild dragon. Or having been caught in a dragon hoard, however unusual this hoard was.

She shuffled further into the cave. At odds with her beauty, she moved awkwardly, Charlie thought. He looked her over to see if there was an obvious injury, but he couldn't find one. She looked healthy.

"It's alright, Longmu," Charlie said as he continued to move down the side of the cave wall, toward the entrance. Longmu was a figure from Chinese mythology who raised five infant dragons. It seemed to fit as a name for the beautiful specimen in front of him.

The dragon moved closer, her large snout getting almost uncomfortably close to Charlie. He held his breath, his wand still tucked away and hoped that the dragon wasn't about to try to eat him. Unless he was grievously injured, he knew a few ways around being eaten, but it inevitably left the dragon dead or severely injured and he hated having to hurt one of these precious creatures.

"See, I'm not so bad," Charlie said holding his hands up for the dragon to sniff. She took a deep inhale, almost pulling Charlie off of his feet. Then she shuffled a bit closer.

He took a risk and placed his hand on Longmu's snout. Instead of pulling away, she leaned into his hand.

"Hey, are you lonely?" Charlie asked softly, running both hands across her snout and up toward her ears.

The dragon blinked at him slowly, allowing his touches, and Charlie suddenly felt very sad. This poor thing was out here all alone, away from her kind in all respects. She didn't even hoard like a proper dragon. It made him irrationally furious at whoever had abandoned her. With her behavior, and given how docile she seemed to be, it was clear that she was a domesticated dragon. He vowed to do everything in his power to bring her back to the reserve to get the attention and love she deserved.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Many thanks to brownlark42 for beta'ing this story!**
> 
> **If you liked this (or hated it) let me know about it in a review!**
> 
> **Thanks to everyone who has left a review! It means so much to me. And thank you for reading!**
> 
> **Enjoy!**

_December 2006_

It was three months later and Thorfinn still hadn't moved on. It was a little lonely, living in a cave with nothing but a dragon for company, but he found he didn't mind as much as he thought he might. For one, there was plenty to read, though most of it wasn't in English and it was primarily cookbooks. He wasn't the most voracious of readers, but with not much else to do, it helped to pass the time.

More often than not, he found himself talking to Freya.

"I don't even remember it to be completely honest with you," he told her one night as he tried to recall the evening that had him on the run. "If the Ministry had me classified properly, they wouldn't be coming after me the way they are." He was sure of that. Somehow the British Ministry didn't know that he was a berserker, and he couldn't figure out why.

He was sure his parents would have registered him as such, wouldn't they? Berserkers weren't completely unheard of, even in this day and age. When he realized what he was during his Hogwarts days, he'd gone to look it up in the library and found out that the Ministry had two classified berserkers. He had assumed he was one of the two, but now he realized he must be an unclassified third.

Due to privacy laws, the Ministry didn't list who the Berserkers were and Thorfinn felt relieved at that. The last thing he needed was a target on his back. He already attracted too much attention with being the biggest person in almost any room. The number of pub fights he could have participated in if he let his instincts rule him was incalculable. People always wanted to see the big guy fight.

Freya huffed at him and he turned toward her seeing that she had pushed a book in his direction. It lay open flat and she had one claw delicately pointed at the page. Thorfinn looked at it, pushing his long sandy hair out of his face and squinting at the text. It was in Romanian. Which he couldn't read. He looked back up at Freya and pushed the book a little closer.

He shrugged. "Sorry, girl. I don't know what it says."

Freya did that a lot. She would open books and point to pages. He didn't think dragons could read. Or if they could, he'd never heard of it. How would they learn? He shook his head. He was sure that Freya couldn't read, but maybe she wanted him to read to her.

"Got any books in English?" he asked. He had read through the few he had found, mostly cookbooks, which weren't that interesting, but some of them had exposition at the beginning of them.

Freya cocked her head at him and turned back to the pile of books. She turned in her nest, curling up, and Thorfinn smiled. For not being able to talk, Freya wasn't a terrible companion at all.

"Well, I need to go out and forage," Thorfinn told her. "I'll be gone a couple of days probably."

He was terrified of his berserker instincts coming out anywhere near Freya. He didn't want to hurt her. But also he was no match for her in his berserker state, so he especially didn't want to accidentally attack her and get killed in the process.

She huffed again and he picked his way across the cave, careful not to step on any books. When he got near her, he scratched her behind the ears. "I'll be back, I promise. I can take care of myself. I just don't want to go into a berserker rage near you."

She slow-blinked at him.

With one last scratch behind the ear, Thorfinn left the cave and began his hike. He had decided months ago that hiking at least half a day away from the cave would be safe. Usually, he liked to hike for a whole day, make camp, and then go look for food. The issue was hunting. He tried to go for bigger creatures, like wild boars or deer, which were relatively easy for him to take down, even when he didn't go into a berserker rage. He brought all the meat back to the cave and shared it with Freya. He knew she went out to hunt on her own, but he liked sharing with her. She would char the meat perfectly before taking down most of it, leaving him just enough for a couple of meals.

Hunting was also good for him because he had found that regularly going into a berserker rage seemed to keep it under some sort of control. There wasn't much written on berserkers that he had found, but it seemed the rage would come over him during battle or a fight, or if blood was shed. This was why when he was hunting he often found himself in a rage, killing everything in sight, including plant life if that was all that was around. The last time he was out hunting he had even taken down a wolf, which normally would have been beyond his capabilities. They were quite a bit faster than he, even in a rage.

He picked a direction at random and began walking. This time heading due south. A new layer of powered snow covered the earth, making his hike almost silent. Part of him felt that it might be time to move on from Freya, but whenever he started thinking about it seriously, he felt an overwhelming pressure on his chest. He didn't want to leave her. Despite not talking back, Thorfinn realized he had come to think of her as a friend.

He knew that dragons could become familiars, although it was quite rare and something that definitely happened more often in the past than it did now. Was that the bond he had formed with Freya? He had never had a familiar before, so he wasn't sure.

Since it was winter, he told himself he had to at least stay until the weather turned nicer. Besides, he usually only moved on when the authorities were closing in. Here, he was almost entirely off the grid, except for the one or two times he snuck down to the village for a drink in the pub. That was what he missed most. A nice ale at the end of a long day.

Toward evening, when the sun was dipping beneath the horizon, Thorfinn started making camp. He had an old wizarding tent he had picked up in the wizarding district of Bratislava. It wasn't much. It had only one room with a lumpy bed that was just big enough for him, but it served him well, especially since he had been living with Freya. After a long day of hiking, he didn't even notice the lumps in the bed and fell into a deep sleep.

He spent the next day hunting, not holding back his berserker rage while he stalked through the forest. It was starting to smell like more snow. He wanted to be back to the cave before any kind of snowstorm came. He definitely didn't want Freya to worry about him.

The following morning, the sun was out, the snow clouds held off for the time being and he ate a bit of leftover dinner before packing up camp and beginning his hunt. All in all, hunting was a lot of boredom, punctuated by periods of extreme action. It was sitting in one spot, waiting, hoping some sort of wildlife would come along.

He took out a few rabbits and chamois, putting a stasis charm on them and stowing them in his pack. Without a stasis charm, the smell of death would keep away all of the other animals.

Finally, a little after midday, a bear began lumbering through the small clearing. He had decided it would be the perfect hunting spot because it was edged with brambles that still had a few enticing dried berries hanging off the branches. He didn't typically hunt bears, but he knew that food options were going to get slimmer as the winter went on. A nice bear would be a nice treat for Freya, especially if they were about to go into long weeks of eating only rabbits and other small prey.

He was getting to the point where he could almost bring on the berserker rage at will, and he planned to do so as soon as he had taken down the bear. If the rage came on him too soon, there wouldn't be enough of the bear left to take back to the cave. He had to take down the bear, stasis it, and strap it to his pack before he let the rage take over. This is where his legendary control came into play.

The bear was a dumb one and fell for the distraction spell Thorfinn had set up. Bears weren't magical but were surprisingly resilient to spells. He had found it was much easier to kill them the Muggle way, or maybe not _the_ Muggle way as he didn't have a firearm. Instead, he jumped on the bear's back and slit its neck. It was quick, efficient, and the scent of blood was almost an aphrodisiac for him. He fell clumsily off the back of the bear and stood quickly, hoping to not drench himself in bear blood. He swayed, smelling the scent and holding back his rage.

Once he was sure the bear was dead—putting a stasis charm on a half-alive bear was a mistake he had learned early on—he packed it up. The moment the bear carcass was safe he sprinted away from his pack and let the berserker inside him loose.

It always felt good to give in to the rage. Just like it felt good to give into normal anger, giving in to this rage let loose all the endorphins. His body was like a whirlwind as he sped through the forest, looking for something, anything that he could reign his havoc on.

All he found were trees and plant life. He was like a whirling dervish as he pulled up trees, blasting the ones that were too big for him to yank up by their roots, and anything else that was in his path. His destruction was absolute and total as the rage coursed through his body. He truly couldn't even begin to remember everything he did while in a rage. His body just did what it was going to do.

With nothing to truly take it out on, the rage always subsided early. He looked around at the devastation he caused. It looked as if a meteorite had landed there were so many downed trees. It saddened him to see what he'd done, but he was thankful that he hadn't come across any animals. He had in the past and animals were often destroyed beyond recognition.

It made Thorfinn feel sick to his stomach when that happened. Trees were easier, they could often be replanted if they weren't too badly damaged. Thorfinn set about righting the ones he could. The ones he couldn't, he cut into firewood and shrank to take back to the cave with him. It was as he was doing this that he realized that he destroyed what appeared to be either a fox or wolf den.

"No," he moaned, "oh, no, no, no, no." He fell to his knees and began digging through the debris, his throat tight, already fighting nausea at the thought of what he might find. He was still compelled to look, always, to find out what he had done. After a few moments, he breathed a sigh of relief. No blood, no fur, nothing to indicate any pups or kits had been in the den when he obliterated it.

And still, he couldn't stop his mind from conjuring images of what could have happened. He saw the cozy litter sleeping, fur still baby-soft, as they nestled together. Maybe one let out a small yip occasionally as it slept. All of them happy, safe, and warm in their den, waiting for the parent to return. Then he could see himself, without any awareness of what he was doing, destroying it all.

He moved from his knees to his bum and put his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands as he tried to slow his breathing. The panic that had overwhelmed him for a moment was bitter at the back of his mouth. He hadn't actually killed a litter of innocent animals. It was alright. He was alright. He wasn't a monster. Even if he did monstrous things sometimes. It was his nature, not something he could help.

Hunting for food was one thing. Thorfinn and Freya both had to eat and he took as much care as he could in being humane when he hunted. But there was no humanity when he was in the throes of a berserker rage. It was all beast with the will to live at all costs, and to destroy and annihilate at all costs.

It was a legacy that he hated. He didn't find much use in hating himself, it seemed like a waste of time, but he did hate that he was a berserker. He hated the loss of control that inevitably came with it. He hated that no matter how much he wished he wasn't one, the rage had to come out one way or another.

He allowed himself twenty minutes to feel sorry for his lot in life. When that time was up, he stood and finished his work. By the time he was done, it was too late in the day to head back to the cave, so he moved as far away from the destroyed den as he could and set up his tent for camp. The bear was still under stasis, he skinned a couple of the rabbits and cooked those up for dinner before bedding down for the evening.

Hiking back the next day was an arduous trek, even with casting a featherlight charm on the bear and the firewood. The snow certainly didn't help and it was past nightfall that Thorfinn finally made it back to the cave. Freya wasn't there, so he left the bear outside for her.

He was exhausted after his day of walking, but something seemed different about the cave. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something was off. Maybe the books were stacked in a different order? Or there was a strange smell in the air? He shook his head. He was too tired, too fuzzy-headed to try and sort it out right then. He would bed down for sleep and then see how he felt in the morning.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Many thanks to brownlark42 for beta'ing this story!**
> 
> **If you liked this (or hated it) let me know about it in a review!**
> 
> **Thanks to everyone who has left a review! It means so much to me. And thank you for reading!**
> 
> **Enjoy!**

_March 2007_

Charlie felt like a prize idiot. He had been commuting between the village below where the dragon lived and the reserve for three months. Coming up every other week or so. He thought he knew dragons. He knew he was observant. So when he realized that the issue with Longmu was that she never flew, he felt incredibly blind and stupid for not having recognized it.

For a veteran dragon rustler, it was a sad realization to make. How could he have spent so much time around her over the last few months and not realized that the dragon literally never took to wing? His saving grace was that at least nobody else knew what an idiot he was. It was strange, though. Longmu walked and climbed, and she clearly went out hunting, but she never flew.

Or… maybe he had just never seen her fly? The thought occurred to him as he hiked his way to the cave. He didn't like doing too much magic around Longmu and definitely didn't want to Apparate or Portkey and startle her. It might make for a bad end for him. So he always took the time to hike up to the cave from the village below. Once he had begun making a path, it was quite easy, even if he still needed snowshoes after a fresh snow fell.

Well, now maybe if he could figure out why she never flew, he could help her. Then he could get her to the reserve where she'd be looked after properly. Adult dragons were infinitely more difficult to move around than juveniles, and it was easier if they were at least somewhat willing to go to the reserve. Otherwise, they might just fly off and the whole process would have to start over. Charlie had to get Longmu to trust him implicitly before he could even bring up the idea of the reserve.

Longmu was at the cave when he arrived and he smiled broadly at her.

"How are you girl? Been keeping yourself well over the last few weeks? Sorry I couldn't get here any sooner. Work has been a bit busy as it is and with spring, well..." he trailed off, it was too early to talk about the reserve. "Anyway, thanks for tolerating my absence, girl."

He looked her over, trying to see if there was an obvious injury to her wings or her back. Anything that would make her unable to fly or unwilling to fly.

"What is it?" Her wings looked good. There wasn't an injury to her back or shoulders that would prevent her from flying. So why wouldn't she fly? The only issue he could see was that she appeared a little on the thin side. But being underweight wouldn't keep her from flying. He'd seen dragons with much too much weight on them fly successfully. Musing to himself, he considered what could have happened to the dragon psychologically that would prevent her from flying. For every other dragon he had worked with, flight was pure instinct. Had she undergone something traumatic? Surprisingly, the thought tugged at his heart more than he expected.

He shook it off, and smiled at Longmu.

"Alright, perhaps some exercises would help you gain confidence and strength. Do you mind?" He held up his wand. Longmu peered at him, her eyes narrowed at the wand before she gave one single nod.

Charlie's eyebrows shot up. Did the dragon just nod at him? It was such a human gesture he wondered where she would have learned it.

"Okay, alright, here we go." Charlie used his dragon tamer voice and Longmu fell for it like every other dragon he had ever worked with. He led her out of the cave and to the ledge outside.

"No need to fly today," Charlie assured her. "We're just going to do some exercises."

He used his wand to move her wing in common flying motions, one wing at a time. Once she got the hang of it, she was able to do it on her own. She did it a few times and then looked at him. She seemed to raise her eyebrow, but dragon faces were so rigid it was hard to tell.

"Dragons fly," he told her. "And you don't. So I'm going to help you be able to fly again."

Longmu huffed out a smoky breath and shook her head. Just once. As she had done when she nodded.

Charlie frowned. "Stubborn, eh? I don't think you'll be able to out stubborn me"

Again, Longmu huffed. Then she turned her large body around and headed back inside the cave.

"Oh, no you don't!" Charlie said, using his best dragon tamer voice and was shocked when Longmu didn't even pause. She just shuffled back into the cave and curled up on her hoard. He narrowed his eyes at her. Perhaps she was more stubborn than he thought. He had worked with stubborn dragons before. He was sure with enough time and patience, he would get her to fly. And perhaps it wouldn't hurt to get some of the expensive dragon treats that the reserve kept stocked for more difficult cases.

* * *

The next week, Charlie brought dragon treats. Longmu loved them as much as the next dragon and it didn't take him long to get her back out to the ledge. When he tossed a treat into the air, she even went up on her hind legs to snatch it. When she thumped back down, though, she glared at him. Despite the rigidity of her face, he was starting to understand and decipher her expressions.

"Just testing," he said with a smirk. She exhaled smoke directly at his face.

Coughing and suppressing a chuckle, he gave her a few more treats then tossed one over the edge of the cliff. She watched it, then turned back to him with that same raised eyebrow look as if to say, 'that's all you've got?'

Charlie frowned. Clearly he was going to have to try something else.

* * *

He began experimenting with foods then, finding what Longmu liked best of all. He tried everything he could think of from tuna to ferrets to weasels. She would eat whatever he brought, of course, but nothing lured her over the edge of the cliff. She didn't even get back up on her hind legs again, instead waiting for the food to fall back within reach.

He was surprised when he finally got around to trying bear, knowing she might have come across one in this part of Romania. That at least got her up on her back legs, but she still let a tasty morsel fall over the side of the cliff, watching it fall with a rather mournful look.

After it disappeared from sight, she swung around and glared at Charlie.

"If you want it, go get it," Charlie told her smugly. She puffed smoke, and this time a few small sparks flew out. Then trundled back down the path that edged the cliff.

Charlie stared after her with his jaw on his chest. It took her almost half an hour, but she finally made it down the icy slope, zig-zagging carefully as she went, and gobbled up the bit of bear he had tossed down there. Then she spat a fireball up at him. He jumped back just in time to avoid getting singed.

Food wasn't going to work. All it had done was fatten her up some, which wasn't a bad thing. He was going to have to go back to the drawing board.

* * *

He talked the issue over with Miles but was reluctant to bring anyone else on board. He thought another human might spook her. If it was psychological, how would he get her to fly? He decided he would give it a few months and if he still couldn't make it happen, he was going to have to call in the reserve.

Charlie hated to have to do would much rather bring her to the reserve on her terms, but he couldn't leave her here in the mountains to terrorize the Muggle village below.

"Alright, Longmu, have at it." Charlie dumped a sack of raw goat at her feet. She sniffed it and he shrugged. "Goat's easier to hunt for than bear. Sorry, girl."

Longmu narrowed her eyes at him then spat a fireball at the goat, charring it completely.

Charlie just shook his head. She seemed feistier today and he wondered why that was.

"Ready to go for a flight?" Charlie asked. Longmu snorted and turned away from him, chewing the last of the goat.

"I brought a harness." He held it up and jiggled it a bit. "I figured if you had someone with you, maybe you wouldn't be so scared."

She curled up on her books, setting her head down on her front claws. She gave him one last long stare, then closed her eyes.

"Apparently not," Charlie muttered, putting the harness back into his pack.

* * *

Charlie had gotten tied up at the reserve for a couple of weeks in a row. Every time he tried to get away to go see Longmu, something else came up that he had to take care of. It was why he was in a hurry and decided to forego his usual hike up to the cave. Instead, once the dizziness from his Portkey to the village wore off, he promptly Apparated to the ledge outside the cave entrance.

He apparently scared Longmu, who was also on the ledge. She lost her balance, and teetering for a confused second, she flung out her massive wings. She flapped them once, creating a cloud of leaves and debris, and took off.

"Longmu!" Charlie shouted, elated as he watched her fly a slow loop above the trees. He whooped and hollered after her when she didn't immediately come back to the cave. "You're doing it, girl! You're doing it!"

Longmu flew for close to forty-five minutes before she landed back on the ledge, a bit ungracefully, but managing to keep her balance. Charlie fully expected her to be in a good, grateful mood when she got back and he greeted her cheerfully.

She spat a fireball at him, her eyes narrowed as she shuffled past him and into the cave.

"What the hell?" Charlie muttered to himself. He knew when he wasn't wanted, though. Clearly, Longmu was angry with him.

"I'm sorry!" he shouted into the cave, and quickly dove to the left as another fireball came his way. "Alright, I'll leave!" This time he stayed to the side so she couldn't attempt to throw another fireball his way.

He wasn't upset though. Dragons were finicky creatures, and now he knew for sure that she had the ability to fly. He felt sure that the next time he saw her, she would be happy to see him. He Disapparated with a loud crack, happier than he had been in a very long time. He loved it when hard work finally paid off.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Many thanks to brownlark42 for beta'ing this story!**
> 
> **If you liked this (or hated it) let me know about it in a review!**
> 
> **Thanks to everyone who has left a review! It means so much to me. And thank you for reading!**
> 
> **Enjoy!**

_April 2007_

Thorfinn knew that Freya didn't fly. He'd been staying in her cave off and on for months and not once had he ever seen her in the air. So when he was on his way back to the cave after another hunting trip, he was shocked to see her flying circles over the trees. What had changed that suddenly she was flying?

That coupled with the fact that the books seemed to be moved in ways that were above Freya's dexterity convinced him that someone else was hanging about. But who in the world would be coming to hang out at a dragon cave? He assumed it was a wizard, since dragons probably scared off other types of magical creatures. And as afraid and ignorant as the villagers were, he was certain that no Muggle was spending time there.

Maybe it was someone dangerous. Maybe that's what Freya was flying. Someone had scared her into flying. He began running up the path toward the cave, suddenly afraid that something was very wrong.

He was surprised when he made it to the top, huffing and puffing, to find everything appeared to be completely normal. Thorfinn pulled out his wand and set down his pack, checking the entire cave and finding nothing. He didn't even find a magical signature that didn't belong to him.

When Freya landed on the ledge a while later, he hurried over to her.

"Hey, girl, are you alright?" he looked her over to see if she was injured at all, but didn't find anything. "Why were you flying? Is everything okay?" Freya looked at him with one huge yellow eye and gave a single nod.

He was used to her quirks after all these months. "Alright, okay. Has someone else been hanging around the cave?"

She ignored him and shuffled inside, shooting a fireball at the lighting ledge above the books and then curling up in her nest.

Thorfinn frowned into the gathering darkness. Something still didn't feel right. Even if he couldn't find another magical signature around, he was sure that he wasn't the only person who had been here.

Suddenly, he didn't care how dangerous they might be. He was a berserker for Merlin's sake. There wasn't much in the world that was more dangerous than he was. And Freya was sweet, but he had no doubt that she could take care of herself if she needed to.

Still, even if he and Freya could take care of themselves, he didn't want to be surprised by someone in the middle of the night. Things could end badly if he were to go into a rage around Freya. For him, Freya, or anyone else in the vicinity. It was better to be safe than sorry. And the only way to do that was to find out who it was that was also hanging about.

Traps would be the most efficient way. Decided, he offered Freya what he had brought back from his hunting and settled in for the evening. He'd begin setting the traps tomorrow.

* * *

"What the fuck?" Thorfinn cursed to himself when he saw the third trap he had laid had been bungled by Freya. Clearly, he wasn't hiding them well enough if she kept running into them.

He sighed as he cleared the residual magic in the air and moved further off-trail, into the wet patches of snow lingering in the shade of the trees. The problem was that if the stranger had been using the trails, he still needed to leave a tendril of magic leading back to the trail to lure them to the trap. It would be much easier if he could just leave the traps in obvious places. But Freya kept destroying them.

"Freya kept destroying them," he muttered out loud, thinking. Freya wasn't a dumb dragon. Not that Thorfinn knew a lot of dragons, but he felt for sure that even for dragons, she was quite clever.

"Freya was destroying them on purpose," he growled to himself as he turned to glare up at the cave.

No wonder she hadn't answered him when he asked if someone else was hanging about. Thorfinn knew it was ridiculous, but he felt a little betrayed. Stupid, because this was a dragon, but there it was.

With a slash of his wand, he took down the rest of the trap he had been setting and stomped back up toward the cave. He had some questions for a dragon.

* * *

Freya, in her usual way, was completely silent on the issue. When he wouldn't let it go, she lumbered away down the trail. When he followed her, she took to wing.

"Stubborn thing," he muttered to himself making his way back up to the cave. There wasn't anything he could do. If Freya wasn't talking, then he would just have to wait for whoever it was to show up. Instead of hunting every week or so, he would just have to set a different sort of trap for smaller animals to sustain him for a bit and let Freya fend for herself.

Served her right with the way she was acting.

* * *

Two weeks later, his jaw dropped when a whistling Weasley waltzed up to the cave. It was Charlie Weasley, to be precise, someone Thorfinn went to school with. They weren't mates, by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, some might even call them rivals. Both in the same year and played for their houses Quidditch teams. In both quidditch and dueling club, Charlie was always unique in his willingness to play the opponents' game. Sure, he'd play fair when the other wizard played fair, but he'd surprised Thorfinn more than once with his willingness to play dirty. More than that, though, he was patient. He played the long game.

It was a frustrating trait for someone like Thorfinn. Patience wasn't exactly common among underage berserkers.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Thorfinn asked, stepping out of the shadows of the cave and into Weasley's path. Freya was thankfully gone for a hunt. Thorfinn wasn't sure he was going to be able to keep his rage bottled up, but at least he didn't have Freya to worry about. Weasley, he knew, could handle his own.

If he expected Weasley to be surprised, he was sorely mistaken. He regarded Thorfinn coolly for a moment, subtly dropping his wand from his arm holster to his hand.

"Could ask you the same thing." He cocked his head to the side. "Aren't you on the run?"

"It certainly explains a lot," Thorfinn replied, gesturing to Weasley. "I was trying to figure out who was fucking with Freya. And who got her to fly."

Weasley smirked and rubbed the back of his head. "Yeah, I'd been working on getting her to fly for weeks. Had to scare her into it finally. Is that what you call her? Freya? She's gorgeous, isn't she? I've been calling her Longmu, for the Chinese woman who was defied after raising five infant dragons."

Thorfinn had to admit, Freya was gorgeous. "Freya suits her much better than Longmu," he insisted.

Weasley frowned and shrugged, then stepped forward into the cave proper. "Out hunting?"

Thorfinn nodded warily. He didn't like that it was a Weasley, but at least it wasn't an Auror. He hadn't seen hide or hair of the Aurors since stumbling across Freya's cave all those months ago.

"Listen, I just need a place to hide out," Thorfinn admitted, scratching his beard. "I'm not trying to get anyone into any trouble."

Weasley assessed him again with his cool blue eyes and Thorfinn resisted the urge to stand up straighter. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the shorter man. Weasley may not reach Thorfinn's height, but he had muscles to match his own.

"Well, lucky for you, I don't work for the Ministry, do I?" Weasley said after a long moment. He hunkered down at the front of the cave. "Don't mind if I wait for Freya, do you?"

Thorfinn suppressed a sigh of relief and smirked. "So you admit it's a better name."

Weasley shrugged and picked at his nails, pointedly ignoring Thorfinn. But if Weasley had already adopted the name, Thorfinn knew he agreed.

* * *

They sat tensely at a short distance, pretending to ignore each other. Thorfinn continued skinning a catch of rabbits while Weasley looked through some of the books Freya had collected.

"Laughed myself silly seeing this hoard for the first time," Weasley commented. Thorfinn snorted in response.

"Never knew dragons hoarded books," he said.

"They don't," Charlie replied. "It's damned odd, that's for sure."

"Well, you haven't met every dragon in the world have you? Freya may be a bit odd, but she's sweet as can be," Thorfinn said, feeling like he needed to stand up for her. She had somehow become his friend over the months and he hated to hear someone talk badly about her.

"Easy," Weasley said. "It's unheard of, but you're right, the world is full of strange things." Thorfinn's hackles lowered. He didn't exactly like how easy it was for Weasley to calm him down, but he couldn't say he was upset about it.

Hours later, when Freya was back from hunting, Thorfinn could see her eyebrows raise as she took in the sight of the two of them.

"Hey, girl," Weasley greeted her with a smile and a small scratch under her chin. She allowed it, and then shuffled past them both to her nest. She had gained some weight over the months with Thorfinn feeding her bears every few weeks and Charlie getting her to fly, and they both had to squeeze along the walls of the cave to allow her to pass.

"Just wanted to check in on you," Weasley said. Thorfinn kept silent as he brined his rabbits for jerky. Weasley spoke with Freya for a few minutes while Thorfinn ignored them. Weasley was going to be a problem, but he still hadn't puzzled out how big of a problem.

After a few minutes, Weasley bid his farewells and disappeared with a crack. Freya sneezed at the rebounding magic and Thorfinn had to duck below the fireball that went shooting out of the cave.

Once Weasley was gone, Freya began digging through her hoard. She seemed intent on finding something, so Thorfinn let her go. She got like this sometimes. Usually just before she shoved a book under his nose, wanting to tell him something that he could never figure out. She always chose books written in Romanian or other languages Thorfinn didn't know. He wished he knew a translating spell, but he had never been very studious, preferring Quidditch to homework.

Once the rabbits were dried out, he began casting stasis charms on the jerky and wrapping them in a length of cloth for storage. He had just finished that task when a dragon claw shoved a book across the floor at him. It didn't look like a cookbook.

_On Becoming Animagus_ , the title read.

"Why are you showing me this?" Thorfinn asked, flipping through the book. He hadn't known she kept any books like this. "You want me to become an Animagus? I'm not sure I have the talent for that."

The dragon shook her great, red head and pointed her front claw at herself.

A wave of understanding came over Thorfinn all at once and it almost knocked him to his bum. The book dropped to the ground with a thud.

"Are you human?" he asked, half afraid of the answer.

Freya nodded, huffing out a stream of smoke as if to say finally.

"Stuck in your Animagus form?" Thorfinn confirmed feeling faint. Had he been living with a human this whole time? It almost broke his brain to contemplate.

Freya nodded again.

"For how long?" He was feeling breathless. He was a fugitive, on the run from one Ministry, and probably every other Ministry in Europe and now there were two humans who knew who he was and where he had been hiding out.

Suddenly, the idea that Weasley also knew made him want to throw up. He was going to have to leave Freya. Leave the relative comfort and peace he had found here in the Romanian mountains. He felt like his heart was breaking.

She held up her front left paw, and three of the toes on her front right paw. Seven. Seven toes she was holding up.

"Seven months?" Thorfinn asked. This time he did sit down on his bum, rather ungracefully as he puzzled it out.

"No, I've been here almost a year. Not seven months. Seven years?"

Freya nodded once more.

"Shite," Thorfinn muttered. "Why didn't you show me this before?"

Freya just looked at the ground, drawing in a long breath through her nose and letting it back out. All Thorfinn's plans on running went up in smoke. He couldn't leave her like this. He wouldn't leave her like this. She certainly didn't deserve it. He was going to have to wait until Weasley came back.

"Fuck," he muttered. Who knew how long it would be before Weasley wandered back this way. Thorfinn had no idea who Charlie worked for or where he went when he wasn't with Freya. He had no way of contacting him. He just had to hope that Weasley was a man of his word and when he did come back, it wasn't with a squadron of Aurors.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Many thanks to brownlark42 for beta'ing this story!**
> 
> **If you liked this (or hated it) let me know about it in a review!**
> 
> **Thanks to everyone who has left a review! It means so much to me. And thank you for reading!**
> 
> **Enjoy!**

_May 2007_

Charlie had been mulling over the Rowle problem for a few days. Part of him was relieved that Longmu, or Freya (he had to admit Rowle was right that Freya seemed to fit her much better than Longmu), had company when Charlie himself couldn't be there. He still wanted to bring her to the reserve, and now that she was flying, he thought it might be possible.

But now he had a bigger issue to deal with. Thorfinn Rowle. They had been at Hogwarts together and something of enemies, playing for their houses Quidditch teams and frequently sparring during dueling club. He couldn't forget how possessed Rowle seemed to become on the pitch with a Beater's bat in his hands. And he wasn't surprised to see how big Rowle had become over the years. He'd always towered over the rest of their year-mates, but as an adult, he had bulked up and filled out. Charlie wasn't scared of Rowle, but he certainly could be intimidating.

No, the bigger problem was that in order to get Freya to the reserve, he needed help. Rowle wasn't trained to help with dragons and while he didn't seem to have harmed Freya in any way, Charlie still couldn't trust him to help move her.

So now, instead of working on getting Freya to the reserve, he had to figure out a way to get Rowle out of the way, and then bring in a team from the reserve to help him. The operation was becoming a drawn-out and costly headache, and Miles was on his case about it.

"If she's still not flying, we'll have to Portkey her out," Miles said. "It'll be a pain to get a Portkey that powerful, and we'll have to tranq her beforehand, but that's the only way to get her here safely. Do I need to contact the Ministry to get the Portkey?"

Charlie ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He didn't want to tranquilize her, and even with a Portkey, he'd rather not do any of that to her if he could help it. Portkeying her out of her cave and to the reserve would only break down the trust Charlie had worked so hard to build with her.

"Give me a little more time," Charlie said. "The flying thing I'm working on. I think I can get her to the reserve without ruining our relationship in the process."

Miles eyed him as if he knew that Charlie was hiding something. Charlie kept his face blank and his gaze steady, hoping that Miles would drop it. He knew he could think of a way around the Rowle problem if he was given enough time. Next time he went to see Freya, he intended to bring the issue up to Rowle.

Surely, even a savage like Rowle could understand why they just couldn't leave Freya where she was, right?

He hoped so. Otherwise, he was going to have to turn Rowle in, and something about that just didn't sit right with Charlie.

There was a reason Charlie hadn't followed in his father's footsteps to work for the Ministry. He chafed under bureaucracy.

"Fine," Miles said after a long moment. "I'll give you a little more time, but if she's not here by June, we're Portkeying her out."

Charlie nodded his assent. He hoped it wouldn't take that long, but he also knew with his duties at the reserve, he only had a few weekends before June to try and get Rowle to bugger off and get Freya to the reserve.

* * *

A week after his conversation with Miles, Charlie was once again up for leave rotation and he Apparated back out to the cave. He landed at the base of the mountain and began his climb up. With Rowle also staying there, Charlie was doubly cautious of Apparating to the cave directly. He didn't want to startle either of them. They were both fairly deadly, in their own ways.

Nobody was at the cave when he arrived and he hunkered down to wait, enlarging the wild boar he brought as an offering for Freya. After an hour or so passed, he started looking around for other things to do. He was curious about the books, but at the same time didn't want to get caught browsing her hoard. Freya didn't seem as wholly protective of it as some dragons did, but still. Charlie knew dragons and the last thing he wanted to do was upset her. An upset dragon was a volatile dragon.

Even more, Charlie didn't want to damage his relationship with Freya. He was going to be one of her primary caretakers once she moved to the reserve, and he needed to keep the trust between them intact. So as much as he longed to look through her piles and piles of books, he kept to himself. Instead, he pulled a Quidditch magazine from his pack and started reading that.

Hours later, Freya landed with a thump on the ledge outside the cave. She shuffled inside and huffed a small stream of smoke at him before charring the boar he had left near the entrance.

"Hey, girl," Charlie said, coming to a stand and running his fingers under her chin and over her cheek.

She leaned into his touch, her eyes closing for a moment before she swallowed the boar whole in one gulp.

"Unsuccessful hunt?" Charlie asked. She lifted her eyebrow at him and came further into the cave.

"Where's Rowle?" Charlie asked, not expecting an answer. He wasn't disappointed. The dragon acted as if she hadn't heard him as she curled up in her nest of books. Charlie thought it looked deeply uncomfortable to be laying on that many books, but dragonhide was thick, so perhaps it wasn't as uncomfortable for her as he thought.

He waited all weekend, hoping Rowle would show, but he never did. Charlie didn't know what that meant. Had Rowle moved on? Judging by the small pile of bedding, he didn't think so, but he couldn't be sure. And Freya wasn't telling.

At one point Freya shoved a book at him with one of her large front paws. Charlie barely glanced at it, studying her instead. Dragons couldn't read. They didn't possess language at all, at least not like humans did. So, while Freya might be an odd duck, as far as dragons went, she was still just a dragon. The book collecting could be chalked up to the remoteness of where she had decided to make her home. There were certainly more books in the vicinity than gold coins.

With nothing else to do, Charlie penned a quick note and stuck it to the cave wall with a sticking charm. He didn't think anyone else was hanging about that would come across it and recognize Rowle's name. Regardless, Charlie had to be getting back to the reserve and it would be another two weeks before he was going to be able to make it back.

* * *

Two weeks later, Charlie finally made his way back to the cave. Excitement had flooded his veins when he arrived at the base of the mountain, but dulled somewhat by the end of his strenuous hike to the cave. It flared to life once more when Rowle prowled out of the opening in the rock.

"Fucking finally," he muttered as he approached Charlie, running a hand through the mane of hair on his head.

"Waiting for me, were you?" Charlie asked with some amusement. Perhaps Rowle was getting lonely for human companionship.

"We have a problem," Rowle growled and grabbed Charlie's arm, yanking him into the cave.

"What sort of problem?" Charlie asked, quelling the panic that threatened to well up. All of the things that could hurt Freya in these mountains flashed through his mind.

"Freya isn't a dragon," Rowle hissed, pointing at the dragon in question. The ledge above the books was burning brightly as Freya sat nestled in her nest. When she raised her head to look at them both, Charlie thought she looked rather smug.

"I'm sorry, but what the fuck?" Charlie asked, confused and a little annoyed, turning back to face Rowle. "What do you mean she isn't a dragon? Of course, she's a bloody dragon! Look at her!"

"She's a human stuck in her Animagus form," Rowle told him, running a hand through his hair again. "For seven bloody years, apparently."

Charlie scoffed. "There has never been a dragon Animagus in history."

Freya let out a chuff of smoke and Charlie turned to face her. He ran his eyes all over her, but she was the perfect specimen of a Chinese Fireball. No part of her looked otherwise.

"Just because it hasn't been recorded in history, doesn't mean it's not true," Rowle said. "Look, she pointed me to this book."

Rowle bent over and picked up a book, handing it to Charlie. _On Becoming Animagus_ the cover read.

"There are hundreds of books here," Charlie said. He just couldn't wrap his mind around the idea of a human being able to become a dragon Animagus. He knew Animagi were powerful, but the amount of power needed to become a dragon would have to be immense.

"And this is the one she picked out," Rowle replied. "I'm telling you, she's human. I spend way more time with her than you do, mate. And she acts human. She picks out the books she wants me to read to her. She nods and shakes her head when you ask her yes and no questions. Hell, she held up seven claws for me when I asked her how long she'd been a dragon! She's human. And probably losing more and more of her human self every day. We have to help her."

Charlie looked between Freya and Rowle. Then he slowly approached the dragon, clambering over the piles of books. She allowed it, lowering her head so he could look her in one eye.

"Are you really a human?" he whispered and she blinked at him, giving a small nod. He placed a hand on her eyebrow ridge and she made a noise deep in her throat as he scratched her there.

"Merlin," he swore, "how do we get you to transform back?" He stared in wonder and tried not to consider how weird it would be to be scratching a human's eyebrow. He knew dragons loved it though.

"I was hoping you'd know, actually," Rowle admitted. Charlie jumped when he realized that Rowle was standing right next to him. He hadn't even noticed when the larger man approached.

"I'm not an Animagus," he shook his head, "Transfiguration is _not_ my skill set."

"Mine either. I'm a fucking berserker. Give me a battle and yeah, I can do something. But anything else? I'm basically useless. That's one of the reasons they targeted me to become a Death Eater. A guy with no talents except violence." Charlie could hear the bitterness in Rowle's voice and he turned to look at him sharply.

"You're a berserker? Is that why you're on the run?" Charlie eyed the other man carefully. It made sense, given his size.

Rowle nodded tightly and looked away. By the way his jaw was clenched, Charlie had a feeling that he hadn't meant to give that secret up, nor mention his history as a Death Eater.

"Are you registered?" Charlie asked quietly. His hand scratched around Freya's eyebrow ridge again. He liked hearing the almost purr she let loose.

"I don't think so," Rowle admitted. "My father told me I was, but… I'm guessing that I'm not, considering they've been tracking me for close to three years. I didn't know that at the time though and I ran because I was a stupid kid."

Charlie pursed his lips. "Parents are supposed to help and protect their kids. If yours didn't register you, they didn't do that." He wondered if Rowle becoming a Death Eaterwas because of his parents, too. They probably had more influence in that than even Rowle would ever realize. Charlie had a strong sense of fairness and he hated it when he heard about parents not protecting their children.

"Two problems to fix then," he muttered to himself. He ignored Rowle's sharp intake of breath. "I think I need to owl, Minnie."

"Who's Minnie?" Rowle asked, tensing beside him. He rubbed a spot behind Freya's ear, visibly comforted as her purr deepened.

Charlie smirked. "Minerva McGonagall. She hates being called Minnie, actually. She'll be able to help with Freya at least."

"And she probably has contacts in the Ministry…" Rowle trailed off. "No way I'm going to get out of going to Azkaban a second time though. Not after being a fugitive for three years."

"We'll see," Charlie replied. He didn't much care about Ministry politics, but he decided right then and there he was going to do what he could to keep Rowle out of Azkaban. "So, should I owl her?"

"Yeah," Rowle agreed. "Do it, but let me know when she's coming so I can hide."

Charlie nodded, but he was also aware that McGonagall had the same sense of fairness he did. He was going to utilize every resource he had available to get Rowle reclassified as a berserker and lift his fugitive status.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Many thanks to brownlark42 for beta'ing this story!**
> 
> **If you liked this (or hated it) let me know about it in a review!**
> 
> **Thanks to everyone who has left a review! It means so much to me. And thank you for reading!**
> 
> **Enjoy!**

_June 2007_

Thorfinn was extraordinarily exhausted. His berserker rage had been exceptionally fierce yesterday, and he was still recovering from it mentally and physically. Part of the issue was the tension he was feeling in regards to Weasley. The months he had spent with Freya had been some of the best of his adult life. And he knew that soon, too soon, it was all going to come to an end.

He just hoped it wasn't going to be right away. He wanted a few more weeks with the dragon, even though he knew how selfish that was. He hoped that Freya, or whoever she really was, was as kind as the dragon he'd known over the last several months. He tried not thinking about Freya's true form, because having slept curled up between her legs, nestled into her belly, he didn't want to put a human face on the dragon.

_Thank Merlin for lightening charms_ , Thorfinn thought as he cleared the last little rise to the ledge before the cave. He dropped the bear he had been holding over his shoulders. It thumped heavily onto the ground as the charm left it at the same time. His pack followed it and he rolled his shoulders in relief. Even lightened, bears were heavy.

The two people in the cave turned around and Thorfinn was really grateful for how hard he had raged yesterday, because if he hadn't, he was sure he would have flown into a rage right then. Both Weasley and McGonagall were right there in front of him, staring at him with wide eyes. Anger licked at his nerve endings.

"The fuck, Weasley?" he growled as he stalked closer. Rage simmered under his skin and he knew how good it would feel to lean into it. To allow it to engulf him. It was a near thing, but he clawed the rage back as quickly as he could. He didn't like surprises. Never had, and he had a feeling it had to do with being a berserker.

Weasley and McGonagall backed up as he stalked towards them. He could smell their fear and it only served to ratchet up the anger.

"Calm down, mate," Weasley said, his wand held aloft. Thorfinn growled. He and Weasley were hardly mates.

Thorfinn narrowed his eyes at him. "I told you to bloody warn me!" He clenched his fists, the rage he had tenuously under control threatening to overwhelm him again.

"Mr Rowle!" McGonagall shouted in her best teacher voice, and honestly, that helped more than Thorfinn wanted to admit. He took a few deep breaths, still trying to maintain control, when Freya shuffled forward faster than he had ever seen her move.

Weasley and McGonagall scuttled to the side to get out of the way of the dragon as she wrapped herself around Thorfinn. He placed his hands on her hide and felt the last of the rage drain away, soothing relief filling its place. He leaned into her belly as she flopped over onto her side. She was large enough that he couldn't see over her, but he knew that Weasley and McGonagall were still there. He ignored them for the time being. Right now, he was enjoying the peace that Freya brought to him.

He had never been this close to a berserker rage in her presence before and he couldn't believe how easily she took the rage from him. It was amazing the way he felt so much better just by touching her. He pulled his hands from her hide and felt the rage begin to lick at him again. Freya made a noise in her throat and he quickly leaned into her again as her tail wrapped around him, holding him close to her. The calm came over him once more and he closed his eyes as he pressed his face against her.

After several minutes of leaning against the dragon, a light hit his eyes and he realized that someone had cast a spell at Freya.

"Hey!" he shouted when suddenly Freya disappeared and a very naked Hermione Granger took her place. Her eyes were wide with surprise, and her hair cascaded in messy brown curls down her shoulders. She would have fallen onto the hard cave floor if Thorfinn hadn't caught her around the elbows and steadied her.

Thorfinn was speechless. The dragon, Freya, was really Hermione Granger. Hadn't she disappeared? Well, yes, of course she had disappeared. He looked over her head to see Charlie's jaw hanging and McGonagall looking faint as she leaned against the cave wall.

"Oh, thank Merlin," Hermione said quietly. She wrapped her hands around Thorfinn's forearms, using him to steady herself and he snapped his gaze back down to her.

She smiled up at him and stepped away. He let her go, still unable to say anything. What was there to say? He'd just been cuddling with Hermione Granger of all people. Hermione Granger was an Animagus. A dragon Animagus.

She took a step and promptly fell to the floor. "Fuck," she muttered and Thorfinn quickly bent down and helped her back up. He pulled his cloak off and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"Thanks," she said, smiling brilliantly up at him. He was pretty sure his heart stuttered.

"Your muscles are going to be weak. You've been using them very differently for the past seven years," McGonagall finally said. "Miss Granger," she whispered as if staring at a ghost. "Everyone thought you were dead."

"Dead? Really?" Hermione asked. She leaned into Thorfinn and that same sense of calm that Freya gave him rolled over him from her as well. He pulled her close, looping an arm around her waist and quietly telling his body to behave when it realized a barely clothed witch was pressed against it.

"Yes, dead," McGonagall said, having recovered somewhat. She leaned heavily on her cane as she strode forward. "What on earth possessed you to attempt to become an Animagi on your own?"

Hermione frowned, leaning more into Thorfinn's side. "How do you know I did it on my own?"

McGonagall raised one eyebrow and glared at the shorter witch.

"Oh, alright," Hermione admitted, her face reddening. "I was an overconfident child who had just been through a war. Making good decisions wasn't really what I was looking for."

"Obviously," McGonagall said. "You should have come to me, Miss Granger. I would have helped you."

"Professor," Hermione said, taking a step forward. Thorfinn was reluctant to let her go and was almost glad when she tugged him along with her. "You're absolutely right. I should have. But you were busy with Hogwarts, and I wanted something for myself. For so long I was Harry's best friend and for once, I wanted to be me. To be Hermione Granger, Animagus. When I meditated on my form and found out I was a dragon…"

She trailed off, her eyes bright.

"Have there been any dragon Animagi?" Weasley asked, stepping forward.

Hermione shook her head. "I checked the British Ministry and there weren't any recorded during the last three centuries." Thorfinn could hear the pride in her voice.

"As I stated in my letter, Mr Weasley, I have never heard of a dragon Animagus. The power alone… it's no wonder you couldn't manage to transform back," McGonagall said, shaking her head.

Hermione looked chagrined. "I would be honored if you helped me," she told McGonagal. "I'd love to master the form, but right now, I'd rather like to get out of this cave."

Thorfinn stiffened. He was glad for Hermione and he didn't want to look too deeply into his feelings. She had only transformed back moments before, but he was a little afraid that he might be half in love with her. Not that it mattered. He was still a fugitive of the law. There was no way he could go anywhere from here except Azkaban.

His eyes met Weasley's over her head as she and McGonagall spoke. He shifted her forward and Weasley wrapped an arm around her shoulder, steadying her. Thorfinn took a breath, relishing the calmness she instilled in him one last time before he stepped away.

"Hey," Hermione said, breaking off from her conversation with McGonagall. Thorfinn had already turned his back.

He flicked his wand at the bear. If Freya wasn't going to eat it, he had better keep it for himself. In moments it was seasoned and dried out as jerky. He dug through his pack and began wrapping up the meat while banishing the rest of the bear. Placing everything back into the pack, he shouldered it and headed out the cave mouth.

"Mr Rowle!" McGonagall said sternly from behind him, but he ignored her.

"Hey! Thorfinn!" Hermione shouted. That one was harder to ignore, but he did it anyway. It didn't matter how easily she could comfort and calm him. She was Hermione-freaking-Granger, back from the dead. She was already famous and would be more so after this stunt. There was no future there. Thorfinn was on the run. He'd likely always be on the run. And even if he _was_ half in love with her, there was no way she felt anything even close to that for him. Because she was Hermione-freaking-Granger.

He couldn't forget the history between them. He was a former Death Eater, however coerced. He had fought against her in a war. She had Obliviated him. There was no way she would be interested in anything from him.

He was almost a quarter-mile from the cave when they caught up with him.

"Godric, mate, you're fast," Weasley puffed from right behind him.

The anger rose in Thorfinn's blood again and he whirled around to see Weasley with Hermione riding piggyback. At one look from his former dragon, all of the anger leached from his bones.

"Was there something you needed?" he asked tightly.

"Put me down, Charlie," Hermione said. Weasley swung her down and Hermione tripped up to him. Thorfinn had to catch her before she crumbled to the ground again.

"Damned legs," she muttered before looking up at him.

He had his hands on her waist, steadying her, and grit his teeth. Any moment now and he was sure she was going to say something terrible and scathing. That could be the only reason they went after him.

"Thorfinn Rowle," Hermione said, laying a palm on his cheek. He leaned into her hand wanting to nuzzle it but held back. The tranquility she exuded swept over him. It was heady and something he knew he could get used to if he allowed it. But that wasn't for him. _She_ wasn't for him.

"Hermione Granger," he replied, raising one eyebrow at her.

She grinned up at him. "Who would have thought that we'd end up here?"

"In the middle of bloody nowhere in Romania?" he asked with a small smile. He couldn't help but respond to that bright grin she kept sending his way.

"That and with you being the person who saved my life," her smile softened and she leaned her body further into his.

His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, willing his body not to react to hers. "McGonagall and Weasley saved your life, not me." He shook his head and opened his eyes.

"Charlie and Professor McGonagall helped, but it was you who listened to me. I had almost given up hope before you came along." She bit her lip and Thorfinn couldn't keep his eyes from the way her teeth pulled at the plumpness there. He had the overwhelming urge to kiss her, but held himself back.

"Maybe," he said finally, dragging his eyes up to meet her warm, brown ones.

"Definitely," she replied. "And since you saved my life, I now owe you a debt." She said it so seriously. He wanted to deny her, but hope unfurled in his chest and he found himself holding his breath instead.

"Charlie explained as we followed you down. A berserker? Unregistered," she tsked. "Your parents were either insane or didn't like you very much."

He chuckled. "A bit of both, probably."

Her smile brightened and he felt a lightness in his chest.

"Come back to the reserve with us," Weasley said. "Nobody there will care and we'll get McGonagall to work on the Ministry. Hermione needs to be reinstated as a living witch, too. That will give us all time to readjust and stabilize a bit. You know, outside of a dragon cave in the wilderness."

He met Weasley's gaze over Hermione's head. He was about to refuse. Why would a Weasley help him anyway? But Hermione pulled his face down to meet her gaze again. He realized he loved the feeling of her hand on his beard stubble.

"Come with us, Thorfinn, please," she said plainly, looking right into his eyes. His breath hitched and he nodded before he could change his mind.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Just in time for Christmas (if you celebrate it!). Many thanks to brownlark42 for beta'ing this story!**
> 
> **If you liked this (or hated it) let me know about it in a review!**
> 
> **Thanks to everyone who has left a review! It means so much to me. And thank you for reading! This was such a fun story to write and post.**
> 
> **Enjoy!**

_July 2007_

Hermione stretched her arms over her head, inordinately thankful to be back in her own body once more. She still couldn't believe so much time had passed while she had been a dragon. She had missed nearly a decade of her life! Was it even her life anymore?

She was insanely curious about what Harry and Ron were up to but had tried not to bombard Charlie with those sorts of questions. Charlie, she sighed. She had always found him positively dreamy, but in the last few weeks, he'd been a rock. Her rock.

He had helped her relearn her body, helping her to walk again, and within a few days, she was even able to start a daily jogging routine with him around the reserve. He was also helping her through something of a mental transition. Occasionally, she still had echoes of very dragon-like thoughts and feelings. Charlie's insights into dragon psychology, along with his empathy for her, Hermione-as-human, was helping her more than he would probably ever know.

And then there was Thorfinn. She was a little afraid of how strongly she felt toward the larger wizard. She was sure much of it centered on how he treated her as a dragon. She had been so lonely for so damned long that when he'd showed up, she hadn't chased him from her cave. Most wizards who have never been around a dragon would be frightened, or would at least treat it like any other 'dumb beast' they didn't understand. But Thorfinn was brave and curious, and he had approached her with kindness, despite knowing nothing about dragons. And she had gotten the feeling that he was just as lonely and in need of companionship as she was.

She was wary at first, given their past as enemies. She had quickly realized that if he didn't know who she was, he had no reason to be mean to her.

After a time, she had started to wonder if this caring version of Thorfinn was closer to who he really was; this was the Thorfinn that had finally escaped the dark wizards he'd been around since birth. And he had been so kind, talking to her, reading to her, and figuring out how to hunt her favorite things to eat. The bears were something she was a little troubled to think about now. She didn't think she could ever eat meat again with her steady diet of it over the last eight years.

And then Charlie had come along. She had been downright ecstatic to see him. He was the reason she decided she needed to stop hiding as a dragon. At first, fear kept her where she was. Then it was a habit, then the cave became home. Especially once Thorfinn showed up and the cave became his home, too. But Charlie reminded her that there was more to life than being a dragon. Seeing him made her long to be human again. Even if it meant losing her easy camaraderie with Thorfinn. She knew she would miss it, but Charlie made her want to go back to living her life, instead of just existing.

It came as a surprise to her then that Charlie was the one who was oblivious to her attempts to communicate with him. It shouldn't have been so surprising. He knew dragons inside and out, and he would know they couldn't read. But she had expected him to take her cues better than he did. When Charlie failed her, she turned to Thorfinn. He had an intuitive understanding of her that wasn't biased by any previous knowledge of dragons. At first, she was worried he would brush her off as well, but he seemed to get it right away. He might look like a big, brutish Viking, but he had paid attention to her, and was definitely clever enough to figure out that she was really a human.

She also couldn't help but be grateful that Charlie got her to fly again. He had helped her work through her fears and be more confident in her dragon-body's abilities. There had definitely been times she felt like a pretty useless dragon because she couldn't fly. And now that she was able to change at will, with a little help from McGonagall, she couldn't keep herself out of the skies. Flying as a dragon was nothing like flying on a broom. It was her body, not some branch of wood, and she was in full control as she glided over the landscape. Hermione was coming to truly love it.

It was as she mulled all of this over that she realized what she felt for both Charlie and Thorfinn wasn't fully platonic. Both were absolutely gorgeous wizards, with hard, well-muscled bodies and handsome faces.

They were different, for sure. Charlie was broad-shouldered and toned, with high cheekbones, a shadow of red scruff on his face, and auburn hair that had started to get wavy as it grew out. Thorfinn was absolutely massive in every way, all muscle. He had long, tumbling sandy hair and a square jaw that was softened only slightly by his cropped beard and easy smile. Both had clear blue eyes that Hermione had to admit, made her weak at knees in a way that had nothing to do with recovering from being a dragon.

Being a dragon had killed any sort of libido she had, but now that she was human again? She was aroused all of the time. Especially since she found herself sharing living quarters with them both.

Charlie had taken them both back to the reserve as he and McGonagall began talks with the British Ministry. With nowhere else to put them, they stayed in his small cabin. There was exactly one bed, which Charlie had enlarged and the three of them sharing. Almost every morning she had woken up pressed against one of them. It was almost getting to be too much for her. She wanted to keep things platonic since it seemed that's what they both wanted as well, but she was going crazy sleeping between them each night.

She was so focused on attempting to keep her feelings for both men friendly that when Charlie asked her out on a date, she didn't quite believe him.

"Just, uh, you and me?" Hermione squeaked.

Charlie's eyes twinkled. "Yes, let's leave that big galoot here and you and I will have a night out on the town."

Hermione twisted her lips in thought. She really didn't want to ruin the camaraderie with Thorfinn and if he wanted things platonic, then he wouldn't be upset if she went out with Charlie, right?

"Alright," she said finally. "Let's go out."

Charlie's grin was infectious as he swept Hermione up in a hug and twirled her around. They went out that night and it was one of the best nights of Hermione's life. Charlie was incredibly easy to talk to and they discussed seemingly every topic under the sun.

On the way back to the reserve, he asked her what she wanted to do now that she was no longer a dragon. She shook her head.

"Honestly? I have no idea. I'm sure there is a mess waiting for me back in Britain to clean up and then…" she trailed off with a laugh. "Who is going to hire someone who spent eight years as a dragon? I have no experience doing anything!"

Charlie laughed. "I'd say you are quite experienced with dragons," he grinned at her, "maybe you could stay here and work at the reserve? You'd know better than anyone what types of things they might experience out in the wild."

"Is that an invitation?" Hermione asked, her heart in her throat.

"You have to know I'm crazy about you," he murmured, pulling her close.

"I feel the same," Hermione said a little breathlessly as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Charlie's grin melted into a softer smile, just before he pressed his lips to hers. In her very limited experience, it was the best kiss of her life. Fire seemed to lick along her nerves as he delved his tongue inside her mouth, exploring every bit of her he could reach.

He swallowed her moan and she couldn't stop herself from wrapping a leg around his hip, trying desperately to get closer to him. Charlie groaned and slid his hands down her body, lifting her by the back of the thighs so she could wrap both legs around him.

After a long moment, they broke apart and Hermione slid down to her feet again. "See, life here wouldn't be so bad," Charlie said, tucking a stray curl behind her ear.

She smiled up at him and then rested her head on his chest, holding him close for a long moment before they made their way back to the cabin.

* * *

The next day, Thorfinn seemed upset. Hermione's stomach clenched with anxiety as he went about slamming doors on the kitchen cabinets. The cabin was small, but the bedroom was separate from the rest of the space. She scrambled out of bed and into the rest of the living area to see Thorfinn slumped against the counter, sipping sullenly from a cup of tea.

"Morning," she said neutrally, testing the waters. She couldn't be sure that he was mad at her about her date with Charlie, but she couldn't imagine what else he had to be upset about.

He grunted, not even bothering to look at her. Hermione frowned and bit her lip. She knew she needed to confront him, but she wasn't sure how. She decided to ignore his bad mood for now and see what happened. She passed him in the kitchen and poured herself a tea from the pot he had made. Without a word, he simply walked out of the kitchen, and then left the cabin entirely, letting the door fall closed behind him. She hurried after him to see he had settled on one of the chairs on the front porch.

She sighed and stood in the kitchen, savoring the steaming tea. What was she going to do about Thorfinn? If he was upset that she went out with Charlie, did that mean he also had feelings for her? The idea that he too felt something for her kicked up the butterflies in her stomach. The feeling was followed by a worry that he might leave the reserve, and then he would be completely lost to her. She had already stopped him from leaving once, just after she had changed back. After her tea, she returned to the bedroom to dress for the day. Maybe once she was clothed, she would feel more comfortable confronting Thorfinn.

By the time she was dressed and ready, Thorfinn was gone. She slumped down on the sofa when she realized he wasn't anywhere near the cabin. Charlie was working a double-shift today, so he wouldn't be home until late. She would just have to wait Thorfinn out.

It was almost dinnertime when Thorfinn finally returned to the cabin. He looked worn out and Hermione wondered what he had been off doing. He didn't acknowledge her as he went straight into the bathroom. Hermione heard the shower turn on and turned back to the dinner she was preparing for them. She'd never liked to cook before, but years of reading cookbooks had somehow turned cooking into an orderly process that she found calming.

Finally, Thorfinn was out of the shower and made a beeline for the bedroom. When he hadn't left the bedroom after twenty minutes, Hermione squared her shoulders and went in after him. He was sitting on the bed, shoulders slumped, staring at his hands.

"Thorfinn?" She approached him slowly, not wanting to startle him. She wasn't quite sure how berserkers and their rages worked—which had been irritating her to the point that she'd asked McGonagall to bring her several books next time they met—but she didn't want to accidentally startle him into a rage.

He looked up at her and the look on his face was so morose it broke Hermione's heart.

"Oh, Thorfinn," she rushed to him and stepped between his thighs, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He pressed his face against her chest and drew her close, his own arms around her waist. They stayed there for a few minutes, just breathing the other in, when Hermione pulled back and cupped his face, forcing him to look up at her.

"Will you tell me what's bothering you?" she whispered, staring into his dark blue eyes.

"I'm in love with you," he stated plainly and Hermione gasped in her shock. "And I think I have been since I first saw you in that cave. But Weasley is a much better man than I am."

Hermione frowned at him. "So you're going to make the decision for me?"

He shrugged and started to look away from her.

She still had his face cupped in her hands, so she leaned down and kissed him. "I think I might be in love with you too," she admitted, pulling away from the kiss.

He crushed her to him then and quickly flipped their positions, so he was lying on top of her on the bed. His lips never ceasing to move as he devoured her mouth. Hermione kissed him back for all that she could. Where Charlie's kiss was like fire, a slow burn, Thorfinn's kiss was like a firework, an explosion. A thrill ran through her and she felt like she couldn't get enough of him.

They probably would have continued and done something positively indecent in Charlie's bed, had Charlie not walked in on them.

He cleared his throat and Hermione pushed against Thorfinn's chest as a feeling of horror overwhelmed her. Thorfinn stood and pulled her up by her hand. He was looking mulishly at Charlie, who was lounging in the doorway with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

"Dinner's ready," he grunted and then left the room. Hermione shared a look with Thorfinn and then followed him out to the main part of the small cabin. She was mortified. What kind of woman kissed two different men in as many days? What kind of woman wanted two different men? She couldn't parse through her own feelings and felt absolutely at odds.

The rest of the evening passed in tense silence.

Later, as they were lying in bed, Hermione couldn't sleep as her mind spun over the problem. She wanted them both. She didn't want to give either of them up. It would be an unconventional situation, for sure, but she'd just spent the last eight years as a dragon. She didn't want convention. She wanted Charlie and Thorfinn. Thorfinn and Charlie.

She huffed and tried to turn over, but came face to face with Charlie's back. It was too hot to sleep with too many clothes on and she let her eyes trace the freckles that sprayed across his skin. But the tension wouldn't leave her. Huffing again, she turned to her other side to see Thorfinn's back. His skin was smooth and she longed to reach out and touch it, but didn't.

After a long moment, she turned back to her back and sat up. This was ridiculous. She dug the wand McGonagall had brought her out from under her pillow and flicked it, sending lights to the sconces in the room.

"There a problem?" Charlie asked, not rolling over. She knew he wasn't asleep. And she didn't think Thorfinn was either.

"Yeah, there is," Hermione said forcefully. "We need to talk."

"Go to bed," Charlie replied, but Thorfinn turned over and sat up, his back against the headboard. She offered him a small smile and poked Charlie in the bum.

"Get up," she said.

He growled and he too sat up, leaning against the headboard, glaring at her.

"I can't help the way I feel," she said, looking between them both. They tensed, and Thorfinn crossed his arms over her chest. Charlie's glare hardened.

"I want you both," she said, now unable to look at either of them. "I know it's not normal, but I can't help it. You both saved me. You both helped me for no reason at all, when I was a dragon and through all this time after.

"Thorfinn," she finally looked up at him, "you found me and gave me companionship when I had lost all hope. I thought I was going to live out the rest of my days as a dragon and when you showed up, I thought that it would at least be enjoyable to live them out with you.

"And Charlie," she turned to look at him, "you gave me the hope that maybe I didn't need to live the rest of my life as a dragon. You couldn't take a hint for the life of you," she chuckled and was pleased when the corner of his mouth tilted up, "but you were patient and persistent, and without you, I'd still be in that cave as a flightless dragon."

She took a deep breath and moved forward on her knees, placing a hand on each of them. "I want you both."

"I live in Romania," Charlie said, breaking the long silence that had gathered among them. "Unless you're planning to move here, we're not going to make sense. No matter how much I love you or want to be with you."

Hermione felt tears gather in her eyes. That sounded like it might be a no from Charlie and her heart felt like it was about to break.

"I'm a fugitive from the law," Thorfinn said, clearing his throat. "But I don't mind sharing if that's the only way I can have you." His eyes shined brightly at her and Hermione sent him a small smile. She was still taking in Charlie's easy dismissal, but Thorfinn's acceptance helped.

"Really?" Charlie asked, peering hard at Thorfinn. "Just like that?"

Thorfinn shrugged. "Why not? Hermione is…" he trailed off and the look he gave Hermione had her blushing to her roots. She bit her lip and smoldered back at him. "Amazing," he finally said. "She's bloody amazing and if she wants me, well, I'll take that in any form I can get it."

"And you won't be jealous?" Charlie asked. "You won't go breaking out into a berserker rage because you see me kiss her?"

Thorfinn frowned for a moment, thinking over the words and Hermione held her breath. Everything seemed to balance on a point and it could go either way. She just wasn't sure which way it would go.

He shrugged. "I can't guarantee it, but I don't think so. Hermione calms me in a way that I can't describe," he paused, considering, "and you actually help a little, too. What were you thinking when you caught us?" Charlie and Thorfinn shared a look that Hermione couldn't quite interpret.

"Kind of like I wanted to join you," Charlie said quietly.

Thorfinn smirked. Hermione smiled. "Really?" she asked Charlie.

He lifted one shoulder. "You're both good to look at and I've not been picky in the past. I am worried about the living situation though. Aren't you both eventually going back to Britain?"

" _I'm_ still a fugitive," Thorfinn reminded them both.

"And I've lived in Romania the last eight years," Hermione said. "I'm comfortable here and planning on working at the reserve for a while. I won't be leaving anytime soon, because I can't travel easily until we can get my living status sorted out, and Thorfinn will need to stay here until he gets his berserker registration. And maybe after that, when we both need to go back to establish our identities again, we can get a Portkey."

"I could get behind that," Charlie said with a grin. He raked his eyes over her and she felt her cheeks redden again.

"And maybe we should work on establishing a dragon reserve closer to home. Thorfinn, you like dragons, right?" Hermione asked. It had been an idea she had been mulling over for the last few days. Nothing against Romania, but it wasn't Britain and she did long to go home.

"I love them," he said, reaching for Hermione's hand. He yanked her to him and pressed a kiss to her lips once she was settled between them again.

"Now that's something I could definitely get behind," Charlie murmured. He turned Hermione's face toward him and pressed his lips to hers.

Hermione sighed into the kiss. She couldn't quite believe they had agreed so easily. She finally had something for herself. Not just the Animagus she had set out to be. Now she had this wonderful life with two people meant to be her soulmates.

It seemed like she might be getting everything she ever wanted.

**_~Fin~_ **


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